holding on (and letting go)
by AtLoLevad
Summary: Tony and Ziva are reunited again.


"Hey."

Tony's voice is quiet and hoarse and the most wonderful thing Ziva's heard in a long time. Her head shoots up and her eyes find his face. He's pale and his features are drawn, but he's alive. Tears shine brightly in her eyes.

He's alive.

"Hi," she murmurs, fingers still holding his. She doesn't think she's let go of his hand since they brought him to the recovery room - it was so easy to hold on and not let go when he was unconscious and she didn't have to confront anything. "How do you feel?"

Tony chuckles, his face pulling into a frown. "Like I got shot," he rasps. His green eyes, cloudy and unfocused from the residual anesthesia and pain, drink in the sight of her and Ziva almost wants to hide away from the intensity of his gaze. But she's changed - they've changed - and instead she makes eye contact and laughs wetly.

"I am so sorry, Tony," she says quietly, still looking at his face as her thumb traces gentle circles over the back of his hand - being mindful of the tape that covers his IV needle. His shoulder is immobilized by gauze and bandages. There are tiny scrapes and bruises on his face.

He shakes his head, wincing a bit. "No, I'm sorry, Ziva," his voice is clearing and getting stronger the more he talks and he sounds more like himself.

"What could you be sorry about?" she asks, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "The past six years, all I've done is lie to you and hurt you! I got you shot!"

Ziva's voice cracks a bit, the unwelcome image of Tony in a bloody crumple at her feet flashing in front of her eyes. She closes her eyes, squeezing tightly against the image, as if she can erase it by sheer force of will. It doesn't quite work, so Ziva opens her eyes again and focuses on the rise and fall of Tony's chest. She matches her breathing to his, anchoring herself in this moment.

"Oh this?" Tony says flippantly, very obviously trying to lighten the mood, "This is just a casual Tuesday for me."

"You are not funny, Tony," Ziva sighs tiredly.

"You used to laugh at my jokes," he says quietly, squeezing her fingers back. Ziva gives him a weak smile, unsure of how to even answer.

So she changes the topic.

"Are you in pain? I can call the doctor..." she trails off, looking over her shoulder, but still holding his hand.

Tony's good shoulder lifts in a half-shrug. "I'm okay for now." He hesitates, "Just...just stay with me."

"I can do that," Ziva replies softly. "I _am_ sorry, Tony. I should have known Zahar would never just leave you alone. I should have known I could never be free from the past."

Ziva's watching Tony's face carefully and she's surprised when his eyes cloud with anger and his mouth pulls down in a deep frown. His voice is a little harsh when he speaks, "Forget it, Ziva. I'm just angry that you were sucked back into this."

"I did not choose to be!" She cuts in hotly, her own temper spiking as she misinterprets his words.

"Cool it!" Tony snaps, eyes flashing. "I know you didn't, Jesus Christ, Ziva! I know! I'm angry _for_ you, not _at_ you. I lost you to Israel so you wouldn't have to fight like this anymore. You were supposed to be living in peace." His chest heaving from the sudden exertion of shouting, Tony collapses back against the pillows, a sheen of sweat coating his face.

Ziva leans forward and pats at his forehead with a cloth, "That cannot be good for your blood pressure," she says quietly, still processing his outburst.

"Good thing I'm in a hospital then," Tony quips, wincing in pain. "Seriously, I'm not mad at you."

"You should be," Ziva sits back in her seat, her hands feeling cold and empty now that she's not holding Tony's. He reaches out for her and wiggles his fingers, prompting a small smile from Ziva as she grasps his fingers once more.

"I probably will be," Tony shrugs, "once everything settles and I think about the past six years. But right now? You're here and you're alive. Why should I be mad?"

He gives her one of Those Smiles, the ones meant just for her and Ziva melts - her anxiety and fear sliding away. Looking at him affectionately, Ziva leans forward and brushes her fingertips over his cheeks, catching on the stubble that hasn't been taken care of. She blinks away the tears that spring to her eyes when she thinks of just how close she was to losing him - really losing him forever - and lets out a soft sigh, barely more than a puff of air between her lips.

"I still don't know what you were doing here," Ziva says, palm resting flat on Tony's cheek now. He leans into her touch, eyes closed.

"Don't be mad at him," Tony says, eyes still shut and lips quirking up in a small smirk, "but Tim called me. Explained some of what was happening. I had to ... I needed ..." Tony can't seem to find the words, which is unusual in and of itself. But then he takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. Looking at her, he says, "I always want to be where you are, Ziva. That hasn't changed."

A strangled sob catches in Ziva's throat and the tears she had tried so hard to fight make their way down her cheeks. Tony's free hand comes up and brushes them away - now it's her turn to lean into his touch.

"I never wanted you to be hurt like this," Ziva murmurs around the lump in her throat. "I tried so hard."

"You don't have to fight alone anymore," Tony's tone matches hers. "You never did."

"I hope," she says, forcing lightness into her tone, "that our only fighting is with Tali over bedtime."

Tony laughs. "Me too. But, uh, you may not say that once you see what bedtime is actually like with her."

Their daughter is in New York with Senior right now, probably taking in Frozen on Broadway, Tony guesses. When he had left the kindergartener with his father, Tony had given strict instructions to keep her safe and not to spoil her. But Anthony DiNozzo Senior is a sucker for his only granddaughter and Tony knows that Tali will be laden down with new toys and sweets when he picks her back up.

"Tell me," Ziva requests. She looks down at their interlocked fingers and then back up at his face. "Tell me everything that I've missed."

A slow smile spreads across Tony's face. He nods. "She loves crackers spread with brie and cranberries and will only eat mac and cheese on Thursdays."

Ziva laughs and pulls her chair closer to the side of Tony's bed, resting her elbow on the edge of the mattress so she can lean in and listen as he tells her about their daughter. Every so often he shifts in pain or his energy flags and so Ziva picks up the thread, telling him about Tali's first few years of life.

Eventually, Tony gets too tired to even keep his eyes open, so Ziva continues to whisper stories about Tali to him, stroking his hand as she speaks. She watches his face carefully, noticing how the lines soften and his mouth falls open a bit as he edges closer to sleep.

"Tony," she whispers and he doesn't answer except for a soft snore, "I am at peace now."

His hand flexes around hers subconsciously and Ziva can't wait until he can come home and they can get Tali and Senior down to D.C.

It is time to forgive herself for her past sins.

It is time to heal.

It is time to be a family.

* * *

_A/N: try not to think about the plot holes and unanswered questions too much - i wrote this in like 4 hours to burn off some energy about the premiere! basically, tony popped up to help ziva on her mission/fight/whatever this is going to be and ended up getting shot. _

_t-6 hours to go_


End file.
